


Love and Marriage

by EllenD



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Childhood Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Marriage, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Prostitution, Omega Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Pining, Slight Mike/Levi relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 02:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenD/pseuds/EllenD
Summary: Levi has been suppressing his heats for years, and it's damaged his body to the breaking point. Going through a heat with a mate is all that can save him now (of course). But there's only one man Levi would even consider being with and Erwin Smith has always been unreachable.





	1. Fly

**Author's Note:**

> No copyright infringement intended, no profits made! Enjoy!

Erwin Smith came into his world like a bolt of light. Sudden and blinding, dazzling him so that he had to stumble back three quick steps and blink, his sight mashed and hazy, and wonder if this person was real. And he knew in his heart – even though he refused to accept it at first, even when he hated Erwin Smith – that he, Levi, would follow no King or Commander but _him._

X

The first sign (Omen? Premonition?) that something was wrong was when Mike got the drop on him during sparring exercise. But if Levi was Humanity’s Strongest, then Mike was a close second. He’d watched Mike and Erwin move during expeditions, had made a study of their strength and speed, and he knew that Mike was good. In fact, he was sure that as long as the Commander didn’t fight dirty, Mike could beat Erwin in a fight.  

So, Levi didn’t take it as an omen of worse to come when he missed a step, moved just a hair too slowly, and felt Mike’s hand on his bicep, a shoulder shoved against his ribs, the ground tilting away from him. And then he was flying through the air. Like a wingless bird, he landed ungracefully, jarringly, his knee singing with pain. He knelt there for a second amidst the autumn-crisp leaves, panting, breathing in air that smelled of apples and damp earth, Mike out of sight behind him but still casting a shadow over him. Tall bastard.

Mike was good at what he did. He was strong and fast. So Levi didn’t linger on the fact that he’d been feeling off all week. That there was a greasy not-quite-pain in the pit of his stomach that had haunted him all week. And that though he knew the right way to move, the right step to take, he’d moved _too slow_ , his feet sluggish and watery, like in a dream.

“Are you alright?” rumbled Mike, coming up behind him. Stupid of him, to come within striking distance. Y _our opponent isn’t defeated until he’s flat on his back_ , Kenny had always told him.

Levi pushed off his right foot, pivoting, then punched straight upwards. Again, he was too slow, he could feel a thrum of resistance in his muscles. But Mike took it on the side of his face and flew back a good distance, rolling to a controlled stop.

“Idiot,” said Levi. “Why didn’t you dodge it?”

“You were always too fast for me,” said Mike, shrugging, even though it wasn’t true. At least not that time.

He had no appetite later at dinner, staring sullenly at a piece of gristle in his soup while everyone else laughed and slurped and scraped their bowls clean. They were in high spirits, excited for the upcoming expedition. The fires were roaring, the roof slats opened to let out the smoke. The air coming in was crisp and smelled of autumn, rain and leaves and sweet hay. He _should_ have been hungry but he wasn’t.

The bench dipped as Mike lowered his bulk next to him. “You alright?” came that quiet rumble again.

“I’m fine. Are you?” Levi countered, looking at the plump bruise under Mike’s left eye.

He shrugged a hefty shoulder. “Had worse.”

Levi huffed and looked away. Dipped his spoon a few times. Didn’t bring it to his mouth. He tried not to notice that Erwin’s seat across from him was empty.

Mike ate some bread and butter, took a nut from the communal bowl. He sniffed once, discreetly, at Levi. “Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Levi said testily, even though his bones were aching and his middle felt spiked with thorns. _Soreness. Overworked muscles. Nothing more_. He flicked an annoyed glance at Mike. “Do you need me to kick your ass to prove it?” 

“Hah, no.” Make sipped from a wooden cup and didn’t say anymore. He’d bathed before heading to the mess hall for dinner. He smelled of bland soap and male musk, a hint of salt from some remnant of sweat on his collar. It wasn’t like Levi to notice, really _notice,_ the smell of an Alpha.

Then he smelled old grease and human bodies and candle wax, the crushing inside smells, and his stomach turned. He pushed away his untouched food to a fellow officer, who took it without much convincing. He ignored Mike’s concerned look as he left the mess.

It was too hot inside, but it was suddenly too cold outside, his body alternating fussily between sweating and shivering. He hugged himself as he walked, feeling pathetic, going nowhere.

A new smell swatted at him, something damp and green and sweet, an air pocket memory of summer. It made him waver in his tracks, blinking rapidly. He’d managed to wander into the patch of garden under Erwin’s office. The garden was crescent shaped, wrapping around that wing of the building. On a summer day, the Commander’s window opened out onto rose bushes and a brick-bordered herb bed.

Levi panted against the cool brick, a hand to his middle, and looked up at the closed slats of Erwin’s window like a lovelorn kid. There was a fingernail of light at the bottom edge. He imagined Erwin at his desk, straight-backed even in private, neat hair bronzed by the candlelight, brain still buzzing, buzzing, underneath that shapely skull. It was impossible to imagine him doing anything else in there but working. If it was any other high-ranking officer, Levi could have pictured him napping, maybe taking a neat drink with his collar unbuttoned, maybe making time with a woman or an omega. But not Erwin.

Working, working, planning, planning. Erwin took his meals in his quarters half the time so he didn’t have to stop, the food already cold, carried from the kitchen two buildings over.

The cool scent of herbs swatted at him again, almost playfully. Invoking. A lifetime ago, a life ago, when he’d been new to the Corps, still pale and bristling from the Underground, he’d stood here with Erwin.

Deeming the instructor useless, he’d snuck out of training and stumbled across the Commander at the garden, jacketless, wearing gloves, his knees dirtied. He was putting up a trellis for new vines. Levi was new to Erwin then, his moods and habits, and hadn’t realize what a rarity it was. Erwin himself had been caught off guard, his face open like he’d been woken from a dream.

“Lavender,” he’d explained to Levi, pointing at one plant after another. “Rue. Marigold. Basil. For medicines. And climbing roses for beauty.”

Levi had pulled his cloak tighter around his neck, wrinkling his nose at the smell of damp soil and hay. “Dirty work,” he’d grumbled. Erwin had cracked a small smile.

There’d been a ring of wild mushrooms, moist and squishy, a bit way off. And dandelions and patchy, prickly weeds. Levi gestured to them with his elbow, his arms crossed under his cloak. “You’ll need to clear that mess out.”

“Maybe,” said Erwin, his smile going sideways with his gaze. “Maybe. But wild things can be beautiful too.”

Levi shrugged. “Dunno. I’m no expert.”

It was the closest thing the Commander had to a hobby, and he didn’t talk about it much, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

The rose vines were bare now, brown and stringy and thorny. They looked like things that grew Underground, ugly and crooked and mean. They looked sharp even in the darkness. Again, Levi felt spikes in his stomach. His arms prickled with gooseflesh even as he sweated. He wanted a bath.

Private baths were usually reserved for the highest-ranking officers or for special occasions. But Levi managed to charm (bully) a few awestruck cadets into procuring one for him. They dragged the tin tub into his private quarters and filled it with barrels of steaming hot water.

He waited until he was sure the cadets had left, their footsteps faded down the hallway, before undressing and sinking into the bath with a sigh. It felt like a hug. It soothed him, made his entire body feel watery, loose. He simultaneously craved a warm embrace, yet being near people made his skin crawl, and so the communal baths had been intolerable. He felt completely unlike himself.

Under the water, he stroked his arms, his chest, his stomach, a knee. In purely non-sexual way, he wanted to touch. Be touched. He felt… in need. Like his blood was thrumming for something. As he pressed fingers into his skin, his mind floated to Erwin again. He was imagining the straight-laced commander like _this_ , loose and naked in a bath. How did Erwin bathe? Probably quickly and efficiently.

As his mind wandered, his hand wandered between his legs, wavering, afraid to really touch. He hadn’t touched himself _there_ in ages. Hadn’t _wanted_ to. The urges had died with his heats long ago. But now…

A trickle of something warm came from between his legs. He sat up, disgusted, wondering if he’d pissed himself, then flinched back.  It was blood. A wavy trickle of it floating to the surface of the bath. He was bleeding from _there._

Two hands on the sides of the tub, he pushed himself up and nearly fell stumbling out. He grabbed a towel – not big enough, he wanted to wrap himself up until he smothered. He yanked a sheet out of the linen chest and flung it around his dripping, shaking body, collapsing finally at the foot of his bed.

He could no longer deny what he already knew. It was wholly unlike him to deny, to sugarcoat, to do anything but face the cruelties of the world head-on with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

He’d been denying it for 12 hours and it was already too long. Even as he huddled at the foot of his bed, teeth chattering, aching, he started to count the days as only an Omega would. The cause of his troubles was clear: _biology_. To be more specific: _heat_.

Thirteen days, not even a full two weeks, since his last supposed heat cycle. Not that he ever lived through one since his teens. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

 He could feel an unwelcome curdling in his stomach and throat, the sourness of fear.

His ears burned, filled with an imaginary, rhythmic thumping, and he slapped his hands over them, trying to block it out. He was five years old again, huddling, cowardly, under a cheap bed that rattled and creaked like a house in a storm. That thumping, as methodical as chopping wood. A deep male groaning, a gurgle of cruel laughter. Another voice, weak and piteous, that wailed and screeched like a bird that had lost its wings.

 _Let the poor birdie fly, let it fly away_ , he’d thought to himself as he’d curled fetus-like with his hands over his ears, his nose inches away from a dead bug, the underside of the bed thumping against him, rhythmically. _Fly free_ …

And the smell… bitter, bloody, musty and sweet all at once. Something like flesh and flowers.

Hours later, many men later, when the thumping had finally gone silent, he’d crawled out on clawed hands and feet. He’d caught a glimpse of the bird out of the corner of his eye, a pale limb, a broken fingernail, a smear of hair across a pillow, and he ran, he ran out of the sex-stinking room and across the hall and down the stairs, grease and beer and male sweat haunting him, until he reached his mother’s room in the brothel, and he flung himself at her, almost knocking her over.

She gave him a tongue lashing while she cleaned a scrape on his face, _What did I tell you about running off, if you’re that bored then practice your letters_. She did it roughly, she did everything a little roughly, hugs and baths and even kisses, like she wanted to be gentle but wasn’t entirely sure how.

He told her about the bird and the horrible thumping, and she said, almost nonchalantly, in words he didn’t quite understand, _You mean Leda? She’s an omega. She… sells herself during her heats. Or her pimp makes her, anyway. Men, especially Alphas, pay twice as much for that._

Then she suddenly hugged him to her chest, so tight he was almost scared, and she sounded like she was crying when she said, more to herself than to him, _Never do that to yourself, you have to swear to me, not you, not my baby boy._

And then he was fourteen and _he_ was an omega, and the world was tilted and warped, and he was alone and frightened and in heat, scrabbling in the dust of an alleyway, crying angry tears, trying to find a crevice to hide his stunted body in, wishing, praying: _Don’t see me, don’t smell me, not me, not me._ Wishing to fly free.

He came back to himself in breaths and heartbeats, and he was no longer trapped Underground, wingless.

He got up, tossed the sheet over the fire to dry, wiped up the puddles on the floor, dressed himself in the loosest clothes he had with a robe over everything, then had someone come and remove the cold bath. He locked the door behind them, not caring if they whispered about the thread of blood still in the water. Let them think it was from a training injury.

In a locked drawer was a tin box containing a blend of dried flowers, grasses, and semi-poisonous herbs. He put a kettle on, washed a mug in hot water, took two grayish-green pinches of the herbs, then steeped and stirred and waited. He did this every month, this screwed up tea ceremony.

Growing up in a brothel, everyone knew someone who knew someone’s mother who knew how to make some version of this mixture. It stopped a man’s seed from taking root, ended early pregnancies, and killed an omega’s heat. He took it every month without fail for years. Except it did fail. It _was_ failing, now.

It had only been 13 days.

He took the steaming cup, blew once on it, and drank it down. The bitterness stung his tongue and throat. He sat down, his head spinning slightly, waiting foolishly for it to work. But then his throat was closing up and his mouth was filled with an awful burnt metal taste and he doubled over, retching, and it felt like he was belching smoke. He vomited the entire cupful into a basin, then dry-heaved wretchedly, unable to see for a good minute or two.

He contemplated letting himself be angry and weepy, maybe throw some things. But what good would that do? It wouldn’t change a thing.

He knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t want to do it. He felt very much alone.

X

He made an appointment with the doctor first thing in the morning. His rank and notoriety got him bumped up on the schedule, so he was in the medical office right after breakfast. But it was the wrong doctor.

Unlike Levi’s usual, Dr. Franke was simpering, cheery-optimistic, and liked to _hug_. He used euphemisms and was prone to hand-patting. Rosy cheeks and wobbly chin.

 _Damn_. Tell it like it is. Call a cock a cock and a someone with a broken back a cripple. And _no_ hugs. Levi hated Dr. Franke.

He jittered in his seat, waiting a good fifteen minutes in a sunny nook of an office before Franke fluttered in with many cheerful _good mornings!_ and hand waving, cheeks plump and rosy as ever.

“I am _so_ pleased to see you, Levi! May I call you Levi?”

“Call me Captain,” he replied, just to be difficult.

“What a lovely day we have, hm? So warm for autumn. Now, I have your medical files here from Dr. Bauer, but it seems you’ve skipped the last two checkups, and…”

“I’ve been feeling off,” Levi cut in, wanting to get it over with. “I think it’s heat-related.”

“Not to worry, not to worry! It happens to the birds and the bees. Tell me all about it. What are your symptoms?”

“Dizziness, nausea, lethargy. Some vomiting. Some bleeding.”

He undressed before the doctor was finished telling him to. He let Franke palpate his stomach, check his mouth, his genitals, then lube up a gloved finger and check between his legs. He winced at the intrusion, focusing on a cloud outside while the doctor probed. It hurt more than he thought it would.

“How long since your last heat?” said Franke, when Levi was dressed again.

“About 13 days, I guess. I don’t really get them anymore, I just take the medicine each month.”

A plucked eyebrow went up. “You mean the standard issue suppressants?”

“No, those aren’t strong enough. They don’t really get rid of the heats, just suppress them.” Levi showed him a bagged sample of the herbal blend.

Franke sniffed it, poking through it with a chubby pinky finger. His eyes went kittenish round. “You know this is banned in apothecaries in Sina? Some of these herbs are highly dangerous.”

“They’re just herbs. They’re not illegal.”

“Maybe not by themselves. How long have you been taking this?”

Levi shrugged. “About 16 years.”

“16 years?!” Franke squealed. His face had contorted into a flushed, wobbly version of childlike surprise. Levi wanted to smack it off him. “You mean you…?”

“Look, where I come from, heats are a damned nuisance at best. Dangerous at worst. And in this job, they’re not exactly convenient.”

Franke flapped his hands agitatedly, then retied the bag of herbs, careful to wipe his fingers with a frilly handkerchief. “Ahem. Well, I think I know why you’ve been feeling… under the weather.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m afraid your body is breaking down.”

Levi frowned. “Excuse me?”

He steepled his fingers and put on what was supposed to be a sympathetic look, pouting girlishly even though he was a grown man. In fact, that expression would look stupid even on a girl. “There is a reason why omegas bodies’ go through heats. A function. It’s not just for, ahh… mating purposes. Our bodies are regulated during these periods. Our hormones are balanced. It’s essential. Even mild suppressants, the kind dissolved in milk, shouldn’t be taken constantly.”

“So what now? Just lay off the medicine for a while?”

“We-ell,” said Franke, voice cracking. “It’s not that simple. I’m afraid you’ve been damaging your body over a long period of time. 16 years…” He shook his head. Then cleared his throat, “Ahem-hem. Have you been having, uh… relations with anyone? Of a sexual nature?” He licked a lip nervously. It would have been less disgusting if he’d simply said _fucking_.

“No, I haven’t been fucking anyone.” He pretended not to notice Franke’s girlish little flinch at his language.

“Hmmmm. I see. Well, your body is out of balance for the time being, and quite seriously so. What you need is to put it back into balance.” He made a series of totally unnecessary motions with the flat of his hand, tilting it this way and that. “You need to let yourself go through a regular heat. But even that may not be enough. The body needs to go through a normal, sexually healthy cycle. It would be best to…”

Levi felt his stomach lurch. His blood pounded in his wrists and at his temples. He could hear the thumping again. “You want me to…” he almost choked on a dry throat. “I have to _mate_ with someone?”

“I realize it’s a difficult situation, especially if you weren’t previously having relations with anyone. But I believe it’s necessary.”

“Not happening.”

“Is there perhaps someone you’ve had a relationship with? Long ago? Someone you trust, who can… ahem… _help_ you?”

“No, I’ve never fucked anyone.”

“Never? Ohhh. I see. You’re a… a virgin?”

Levi bristled at that. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

More hand waving and cooing. “Only in the medical sense. If you had sexual relations in the past, then your body might adapt faster and regulate itself more easily. But…”

“Ugh. So what? What if I just lay off the herbs and lock myself in a room, go through a heat?”

“Like I said, it won’t be enough. Damage done to your body over a period of 16 years… this is quite serious. If you don’t take care of this matter, it could lead to permanent infertility, organ damage, even death. You mentioned bleeding? That’s not normal for male omegas, not at all. It’s not menstruation, it’s a rupture of some kind. It’s a sign your reproductive organs are shutting down.”

“What the hell…” Levi groaned, rubbing his temples.

“And it will only get worse,” Franke whimpered, in a thin and reedy voice that was meant to be compassionate. “But it’s not irreversible, if you act quickly.” He reached over to pat Levi’s hand. Levi snatched it away with a dark glare. “You don’t even need to mate permanently. Just… find someone who can… _assist_ you. Sexually.”

“I don’t do that,” Levi whispered harshly. Again, the thumping. It was getting louder, a constant, rhythmic drumming against his ears. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not like that. Himself, crushed under an Alpha, broken bird noises torn from his throat as he was mercilessly pounded into… he _can’t_. Not with anyone. Not with anyone but…

 _Oh, Erwin_. _If only_.

As Franke wheedled and simpered, Levi fought back a dangerous prickling in his eyes.

He’d thought about it once. It was no great feat to be attracted to Erwin Smith. He was attractive in the ordinary sense, even if the man was far from ordinary.

Levi had considered propositioning him, but he’d lost his nerve. He’d thought Erwin was heartless. Admirable, but heartless, stunted inside somehow, unable to love. He had eyes that shone with blue fire, eyes that stared right through flesh and bone, through the Walls, through Levi himself, to some fixed point beyond their world. Untouchable. Unreachable. Levi had never seen someone so driven.

Then one night, a few officers were sharing a fire and some ale that wasn’t terrible, and Erwin was in a rare maudlin mood. Levi lurked in a corner armchair, elbows jutting out aggressively, not really with the group but not really apart, watching Erwin.

 _No, there’s no woman or omega in my life_ , Erwin had said, in response to someone. _Once, there was… But as long as I’m the Commander of the Survey Corps, my life is not my own. I don’t know when I may be called upon to sacrifice myself. It could be any moment. Any type of relationship… it would be… unwise._

So Erwin Smith did have a heart. It just wasn’t for Levi. Erwin, bloodied though he was, ruthless though he was, had honor. And Levi would never cause him to lose that honor.

And in that cramped, sunny room, while Dr. Franke wrung his hands and pleaded with him to prostitute himself to a stranger, Levi decided.

No one would touch him.

The expedition was in less than two weeks. He could hold out until then.

And then… he would die.

He would ride out, breathe the clean air, feel the wind in his hair, and he would do what he did best: kill titans. He would fly high, no longer a wingless bird trapped underground, but a Captain of the Survey Corps. He would be the spearhead of Humanity, carving through the enemy, one after another, until he himself died. He would not ride back. He would not be among the survivors. He would give his life and his wings to make Erwin’s dream – that far dim point on the horizon – just one step closer.

“Levi… I mean Captain… you must consider that your life is on the line here.”

Levi stood. “I’ll consider it, Doc. See you later.”

He walked out without saying Thank You, because he didn’t feel thankful. He felt… determined. And he knew what he had to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin confronts Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended, no profits made! Enjoy!

Soldiers lived spartan lives in the Survey Corps, but most soldiers had some family or home outside of the military. Somewhere out there were houses where possessions and memories sprawled freely, uncontained and undisciplined, walls which were pocked with height markers and ingrained with childhood smells. Roots. Levi had no quaint cottage in Southern Wall Rose, where a petite sweetheart waited for him, face turned longingly towards the mountains each morning while the porridge bubbled on the stove. He had no aged grandmother who rocked and hummed all day, ignoring most of what was said to her, knitting itchy sweaters for him that were two sizes too big. Or an estranged, widowed father who rattled resentfully around in an empty house yet still kept his childhood room exactly as it was. (Those were other people’s homes, other people’s memories; he’d borrowed them from former comrades, dead now.)

What Levi had were a few nice suits that he wore on his days off. A pair of leather shoes and a polish kit. An enamel box with compartments for his (sadly) small tea collection. A tea set with mismatched pieces. He’d pondered his few possessions with a hand on the chipped corner of his wardrobe, digging a thumbnail into the wood, before _tsking_ and shutting the door, deciding tiredly that he didn’t really care what happened to any of it. He had a small amount of money that he’d been saving, a little nest egg for when (if) he eventually retired. He ended up stuffing equal halves of it into envelopes marked _Erwin_ and _Hange_ and shoving them into the top drawer of his nightstand. The Commander would probably just reinvest it in the Corps. Hange could buy glass tubes or specimen jars for her titan armpit hair collection or whatever.

He sat on his bed afterwards, drinking hot tea and blotting a bloody nose, his entire life wrapped up in less than an afternoon.

A day later, Erwin found him on hands and knees, scrubbing. He had no grand ideas for his last few days in the world, no real designs for his legacy, last wishes and such. But a good cleaning seemed appropriate.

“You’re very industrious today,” the Commander commented pleasantly.

Levi focused hard on the rough washcloth, his hands pink from the hot water. The thought of looking up into Erwin’s bright face seemed painful, like looking into the sun. “People keep tracking in dirt,” he said, looking at Erwin’s boots, even though they were clean.

To his surprise, Erwin went on one knee down to his level. “Need any help?”

“From you?” said Levi, still not looking up. He huffed an approximation of a laugh. “That would be unseemly.”

“I could scare a few recruits into helping. And it’s not like I’ve never scrubbed a floor before.”

He had the sudden memory of Erwin in the garden again, on his knees, hands in the earth where the wild things grew. There was a sweetly sore longing to go back to that time, when everything, even pain, was sharp and new and green.

 _Help me_ , he suddenly wanted to say. _Save me. Only you can. Only you…_

He felt his nose go snotty, drippy, and was about to swipe angrily at it. But it was a drop of blood and not mucus that fell to the floor, making a little splat of dark red.

“Damn,” he hissed. His body was coming undone. It happened here and there, a nosebleed, a cracked lip, blurred eyesight, a joint suddenly on fire, like he was an old doll leaking stuffing in unexpected places.

“Are you alright, Levi?”

A clean cotton handkerchief appeared in Erwin’s hand, softly pressed to his nose. He felt cool cloth, dabbing, and drew back in a gentle recoil. “Wait… it’ll stain…”

“It’s no trouble.” It was a nice handkerchief too, with neatly hemmed edges. A gift? He couldn’t imagine Erwin hemming handkerchiefs.

“Give it to me, I’ll clean it.”

“It’s fine.” Erwin folded it into a square with the bloodstain inside like a jam center, and pocketed it, leaving Levi feeling mildly violated, that Erwin had taken a small part of him.

“Don’t work too hard,” said the Commander, straightening up. “Save your strength. We’re meeting with the other squad leaders in an hour.”

“R-right.”

When Erwin left, he waited, motionless, for several long moments before slowly pulling himself to his feet. His head swam these days if he stood too quickly.

He attended the meeting in a tight ball of discomfort, huddled against the wall away from the central table, his head aching, his muscles sore for no reason. But he always did sit apart from everyone else, and the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth could just be stress lines. No one should notice anything out of the ordinary.

He listened to them talk, offering little input, and wished, as he felt his limbs disjointing, as he felt his skin buzzing and crawling, that he wasn’t in love with Erwin Smith.

X

Of course he thought about it. It was impossible not to, given the situation. Impossible to sit in a bath and watch another small, bloody part of him float away in the pink water, to _feel_ and _see_ his body disintegrating, and _not_ wonder _what could have been_. 

His ideas of love and marriage came from his mother, and for a whore, she had very unrealistic aspirations for both. From her, he learned about chaste courtships, chivalry, and sugar-frosted weddings. A couple’s first kiss should be at the altar, she’d always insisted. It was only proper, honorable. While smearing cheap perfume on the insides of her wrists or dabbing delicately between her legs with a damp towel, the hem of her flimsy dress between her teeth, she instilled in him all the transactional, _logistical_ aspects – the exchange of love trinkets and dry kisses on gloved hands and cream card invitations – and none of the sticky emotions involved with falling in love. And here he was decades later, completely unprepared for it.

He knew he wasn’t beautiful. He was fit and lean-waisted, sure. But he wasn’t blessed with traditional good looks: long limbs and large doe eyes, rosebud lips, thick luscious locks. Cute freckles. Rosy cheeks. He scowled at the world from hooded eyes, his mouth pinched and angry.

He didn’t know how to make someone – especially a man like Erwin Smith – fall in love with him the way he’d seen others do. He didn’t how to throw back his head in a stage laugh, pretending what someone said was funnier than it was. He didn’t know how to whisper into someone’s ear so that they blushed. He didn’t really know how to be tender.

Head in hands, he tried to make the incongruous – him and Erwin courting – congruous, and couldn’t.

He imagined telling Erwin straight up: _I’m dying and you’re the only one who can save me. By mating me._ Crude and blunt.

He pictured the slow blinking of those blue eyes as comprehension dawned, an uneasy twist of the lips, a dignified sniff and then a stammer, _I’m flattered you would choose me, Levi. Truly I am. But you see, my duties as the Commander of the Survey Corps come first, and I can’t… I just can’t._ An awkward consolation pat on the shoulder.

Or, and he couldn’t decide if this was better or worse, Erwin would actually _acquiesce_. Accommodate. A discomfited shrug of the shoulders, a dry hand in his: _Well, if it’s for the good of the Survey Corps. You_ are _Humanity’s best hope, after all._ Then an off-center, awkward, embrace that was more shoulder than chest. A half-hearted encouragement: _We’ll be happy together, won’t we, Levi?_

It made him uncomfortable just to think of it.

 

X

 

Three days before the expedition, a messenger chased him down and informed him that the Commander wanted to see him.

It had been a good day. He had woken up feeling not quite as awful as he had been. He’d stretched like a cat on his bed, hearing pops and creaks but nothing else too alarming, and peeked at the package of medicine on his nightstand with one eye, speculative.

Dr. Franke had given it to him to take. He was to mix a teaspoon with a glass of water a day. _Captain, it will balance the humors and strengthen the body. Makes the skin smooth and the hair shiny too, hehe, we could all do with a little tune up every now and then, am I right?_ Then his face turned serious, mouth drooping dramatically at the corners. _Of course, it’s no substitute for the actual… act. A healthy, sexually active heat cycle. That’s the solution._

Levi had taken the packet of medicine and made more vague promises that he was going to “continue to consider” the solution. _Oh, and Doc? I appreciate your help. But if you tell anyone about this, I’ll have harsh words with you. Also, I’ll kill you and pickle you in lye._

He’d shut the door on the doctor’s high-pitched sputtering: _Well, that wasn’t very nice!_

He never took the medicine, afraid that it would only quicken the process, hurrying him into a “healthy” heat cycle, and he’d be a panting, slavering mess before the expedition even started. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it out either. It sat on his nightstand like a pissy reminder.

But it had started off as a good day, all sunshine and birdsong and not too much pain. Until he met with Erwin.

“What is it?” he said in his usual clipped tone, facing Erwin’s behemoth of a desk. It stood like a barrier between them, a massive bull of a thing, made of polished walnut. It was lined with myriad neatly labeled compartments. He imagined all the secrets and schemes lurking inside like living creatures, scuttling between drawers with scrabbly claws.

The commander was wearing an inscrutable expression. He gave Levi a very obvious once over, a full-body up and down look, and said the last thing Levi expected, “I’m canceling the expedition.”

It rocked him, actually rocked him so that he took half a step backwards. He braced himself and said, “ _What?_ ”

“The Survey Corps is not ready for the next expedition. So, I’m canceling it.”

“Shouldn’t this be a conversation with all the other squad leaders?” Despite himself, he took another step back. He wanted out of the room, away from this strange new mood of Erwin’s. “Why are you telling _me_?”

Erwin stood and Levi, who’d never been intimidated by the man’s height and size before, suddenly _was_.

“You don’t go to battle with a dull weapon. It’s just asking for defeat. And right now, our regiment’s best weapon is _you_. And you’re not fit to go on the expedition.”

Levi felt a shot of anger go through him, mixed with something like grief. That after all this time, Erwin still thought of him as nothing more than a living weapon. A tool. Something to be aimed towards the enemy and released, followed by an affectionless nod of satisfaction when he hit the mark.

“What the hell are you talking about, Erwin?”

There was a pen in Erwin’s hand and he pointed the sharpened nib accusingly at Levi. “You’re not well.”

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly f-”

“Don’t deny it. You haven’t been training with your squad. Or by yourself. That’s not like you. It’s because your body can’t handle it, right?”

“Look,” Levi said slowly through his teeth. “Whatever rumors you’ve heard, they’re not true. I’m fit for duty.”

“You look like you’re constantly in pain. You haven’t been eating.”

“How the hell would you know?” Levi snapped pettishly. “You hardly deign to step into the officer’s mess half the time.”

“I hear things from the other officers.”

“You’re spying on me?”

“Yes,” Erwin said flatly.

“You creep,” said Levi, when no better comeback came to mind. 

In response, Erwin strode to a nearby cabinet and yanked it open. Hanging on the door was a thin slice of mirror, and it threw Levi’s reflection back at him like a sudden smack. He flinched, and Erwin noticed him flinch.

Levi had been avoiding reflections for this very reason. He had an idea that he looked bad. But seeing it… _Aw, hell_. His skin was grayish, paler even than when he’d first emerged mole-like and blinking from the Underground. The circles under his eyes looked like black scorch marks. His lips were so dry and pinched that they were almost non-existent.

“I spoke with Dr. Bauer,” said Erwin. “Pulled your medical files. You haven’t been to see him and he can’t tell me anything from your last checkup.”

Levi felt like laughing. Enduring Dr. Franke and his moist muttering had its benefits after all, since Erwin was now looking in the wrong place.

“But I don’t need a doctor to tell me something’s wrong with you. You’re wasting away. Everyone’s noticed, so don’t think you’re doing a good job at hiding it.”

“It’s just a flu,” Levi muttered to his shoes.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t need to hide it. You’ve been avoiding everyone. Me, in particular.” Erwin took a step closer, and suddenly it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Erwin had left the window cracked and the wind was blowing his scent towards Levi. Alpha male scent. Another step, and Erwin was almost on top of him.

He felt the beat of blood against his temples. His knees had gone week, the joints aching tenderly.

There was an open, almost vulnerable look on Erwin’s face. “I thought,” he said, “we were closer than that.” Then his eyes widened, alarmed. “Oh. You’re bleeding.”

He’d barely even felt the trickle down his upper lip.

Erwin reached for him, his arm lifting, ruffling the opening of his jacket so that his scent was pouring out through the linen shirt, overwhelming him, sweet and musky and salty.

“Don’t!” shouted Levi, jerking backwards like he’d been burned. His back hit the paneled wall with a loud, reverberating thump. He waited for it to die off, but it didn’t. The infernal thumping echoed through the room, through his head, rattling through his brain. That rhythmic, heavy, visceral sound, a noise he could almost _smell_. His hands itched to cover his ears.

Erwin stood frozen, his eyes icing over. He withdrew quickly, tucking his outstretched hand back to his side, turning on his heel and striding back towards his desk. The line of his shoulders was angry.   

“You’re not a child,” he said coolly. “And it’s not my intention or my desire to treat you like one. Maintaining your health is as much a responsibility as your military training. You should know your duty.”

“My… duty?” Levi echoed hollowly.

“You’re a soldier of the Survey Corps. Not a delinquent, at least not anymore. Your life belongs to the Corps. Your body too. What you’re doing to yourself is a gross dereliction of duty. Or was that vow you took worthless?” Each word cracked like a gunshot.

Levi gritted his teeth. _A delinquent_?

He felt the anger sear into him, vein by vein, until his blood was burning. How dare he talk about vows and duty. Wasn’t it all for duty? His life, his dignity, Isabel and Farlan… all so Erwin Smith could get another tool in his box, another sword in his belt. That was all he’d ever be to this man. Duty and never-ending vows.

He remembered meeting Erwin Smith, himself on his knees, Erwin towering above him like a vengeful god, untouched by the damp dirtiness around them. Disdainful of him, a _delinquent_. It was the same now as it was then. Erwin had all the power and he still had none. Erwin had his precious Survey Corps, his vision, his distant horizon. And Levi would never have Erwin.

The bitter tang of medicine burned his throat, a taunting reminder of all he’d lost. He’d killed his body, his sexuality, left it all behind to die underground with the rest of the wild, untamable things, so he could be the perfect soldier. Wasn’t it all for duty, for Erwin? Wasn’t he _dying_ for him?   

“I know my duty,” he said lowly, his voice seething. His fists balled at his sides. “I don’t need a damned tongue lashing from you to remind me. I _know_ I’m fit for action. And I’m _going_ on this expedition. Just you try to stop me. I’m worth a whole battalion of these scared _kids_ you’re leading, and you know it.” He started stuttering in his anger, feeling himself shaking, unraveling. “T-try to leave me behind, and every s-single one of their deaths I could have prevented will be on your head!  Every s-soldier I could have saved from being _Titan shit…_ their blood will be on your hands!”

He groped for the doorknob with a shaking hand, found it, fumbled it, and then flung himself out into the hallway.

“I haven’t dismissed you, Captain!” Erwin snapped behind him.

“Go to hell.”

 He marched down the hall and out the side door, stomping his way down wooden stairs until he reached the training yard. His squad was practicing hand-to-hand combat and he wasn’t too arrogant to feel a slight flip of guilt. He _should_ have been training with them. He should have felt contrite. But he was still pissed.

A wooden training dummy came into view. Without breaking stride, he punched his fist through the heart of its torso, shattering it, feeling a grim satisfaction as he was littered with splintered wood.

“ _What_?” he snapped at those who stopped to stare. “Tell ‘em to take it out of my paycheck.”

Knuckles aching, he blew past Yeager and his two shadows, who were still staring, then past Jean Kiersten and Sasha Brauss, who were trying hard _not_ to stare, finally spying Connie Springer who was lounging against the wall without a sparring partner.

“You!” he barked, pointing. “Springer. You’re with me.”

“Uh… Captain… I…”

“Now!”

“Yessir!”

As he kick-nudged Connie into a proper stance, he spied Erwin crossing the courtyard towards them, a pissed-off look on his face.

“He wants me to train, I’ll show him training,” Levi muttered.

“Uh, sir?”

“Nothing. Throw a punch already.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet as Connie drew his fist back. It should have been easy to avoid. But pain sliced up in his midsection, hot and sharp, at just the wrong moment and instead of taking a quick, smooth step to the right, he wobbled. Off balance, he felt the blood draining from his face, the world going topsy-turvy.

And then Connie hooked him right in the face.

 

X

 

Erwin stood over Levi’s unconscious body. He’d seen Levi asleep before. Levi was aggressive in slumber, all jutted elbows and clenched eyelids, curled like a coiled fist. But knocked unconscious, the captain looked unnaturally peaceful, mouth slack and forehead smoothed, eyes gently closed, a loop of black hair falling boyishly across his face.

Connie Springer was still holding his fists in the air, staring at them, his face gaping, not sure whether to settle on horrified awe – _oh shit, what have I done –_  or gleeful awe – _oh shit, I’m awesome_ – that he’d knocked out Humanity’s Strongest in one blow.

“Soldier,” Erwin said in the kind of voice that got people’s attention even though it was quiet. He looked at Connie, who flinched back with a startled _ehh_ sound. “Hit me.”

“Wha…?! Commander, I can’t!”

“Hit me,” Erwin insisted. “As hard as you hit Captain Levi. Give it everything you got.”

The kid wavered for a moment, round head bobbing, and then decided that the chance to knock out _two_ commanding officers in one day was too good to pass up. In front of his gape-mouthed friends, he threw a punch upwards at Erwin.

He caught the punch in one hand, which meant Levi should have been able to catch it too. He hefted the weight of the punch for a moment, considering, before throwing it back, knocking Connie off-balance to fall on his rump.

“Not bad,” mused Erwin. “Keep practicing.” Convinced that Connie Springer hadn’t spontaneously developed superpowers, he motioned at the cadets who were hovering over Levi. “Call for a stretcher and bring the captain to the medical unit. Tell the doctor I want a full report.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please please please feedback and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I truly hope you liked it. Please feedback and let me know what you think!


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